


Tempting Fate

by KlonoaDreams



Category: Berserk
Genre: -The God Hand will remember this-, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, By the person who helped write these tags, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark Fantasy, Gen, Grandpa Skull Knight, I was fucking enabled, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Sexism, Self-Insert, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlonoaDreams/pseuds/KlonoaDreams
Summary: "Can it get any worse?" Yes. Yes it fucking can. It can always get worse—especially if your name is now Casca. SI!Casca





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadedCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadedCat/gifts), [Lyrecho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrecho/gifts).



> First of all, this started off as a random "it could be worse" situation that was meant to be somewhat of a joke…then  **ShadedCat**  (aka,  **AngstyArbitually** ) fucking  _enabled_  me, so now this fic exists and you have them and  **sealingdesigneejosephine**  (aka,  **memoriesofpurelight** ) to blame for this fic!
> 
> Second of all,  **WARNINGS FOR DARK THEMES**! This is a  _Berserk_  fic, so there  **will**  be  **excessive violence** ,  **gore** ,  **sexual assault** ,  **body horror** , and many,  **many**  fucked up things in general—a lot of which are  **canon typical**! Read at your own discretion and  _please_ , do  **not**  push yourself if you are especially sensitive to these types of things!
> 
> Otherwise, do feel free to read on and I am making use of a different writing style for this fic! Just thought I'd warn everyone upfront…
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer for whole story: I do not own**  
>  _  
> **Berserk**  
>  _  
>  **or anything related to it! I get nothing out of this except a chance to explore new ideas for an entirely new fandom!**

I don't remember much about my death. All I can recall, during my final moments, is pain and an intense desire to live as my consciousness slowly faded away…

_I don't…want to die…_

If I knew what was waiting for me on the other side, then maybe I would have felt differently.

_Maybe…_

…

…

* * *

She enters the world on the night of a full moon. She cries at the top of her lungs, her body far smaller and frailer than it has ever been. She knows not a damn thing about her situation, but she can feel—she can just  _feel_  that something is wrong. So very,  _very_ **wrong** …

_It's too soon…_

She was born too soon, the people around her say to each other. No one expects her to make it through the night. Her own mother doesn't expect her to live past a week. Regardless, she still treats her newborn with some compassion—it's the least she can do. Maybe then, she won't have to feel so guilty about being unable to feed her children and seeing yet another of them starve.

Her father feels similarly, also thinking that it would be one less mouth to feed. They have five children already—the last thing they needed was another girl. They have no name for her, not expecting her to live that long. It's better that way, otherwise they might grow attached.

She surprises them all when she makes it through the month. And very quickly, one month becomes two and it's when she turns three months old that she finally receives a name from her parents.

"Casca," she overhears her mother calling her while she's being breastfed.

She starts crying almost immediately and spends the next week disturbing everyone's sleep with her excessive wailing. It is to everyone's relief when she finally stops crying, only doing so when she is hungry or has soiled herself. Life goes on for everyone within this remote mountain village…

It goes on for everyone except a three-month-old Casca, who now spends a lot of time staring out at her surroundings every chance she gets. Her eyes seem far more intelligent than they should be, but no one ever notices. Like everything else, it just slips by as everyone struggles to survive. If she's lucky, she won't know what hunger truly feels like until she's at least a year old.

Casca doesn't think about that—she focuses on the present because she has her doubts. She has her doubts and there's only so much she can handle at her current stage. So she continues eating, sleeping, and soiling herself like every other infant in her village. It's all she can do for now.

* * *

…

…

A lot of the developmental milestones that I should've achieved by now are just a couple of months away from my reach because I just had to have the luck of being born prematurely. To be honest, I should consider myself lucky that I'm still alive. From the looks of it, the survival rate doesn't seem to be too high in this area—wherever the hell this is.

I still have no idea about the specifics of where I'm at, other than that I live in a village in the mountains. The language everyone speaks in isn't anything I recognize, so there's that too…

_It's confusing…_

But I'm still alive.

_You're not dead yet._

…

…

* * *

Casca is about a year old when she finally starts learning how to crawl. She pushes herself as best as she can because no one else seems to care. She can tell they've stopped actually caring, with the way it takes her nearly two months to realize that she's passed her first birthday. Everyone has their own task to deal with, while she's still struggling to crawl and talk.

Unsurprisingly, her first word has nothing to do with calling out for her mother or father. Instead, she calls out for food during one particular evening when she's almost excluded from dinnertime. No one expected her to notice since she's still so young, but she does and holds out her hand for a piece of the bread she sees being shared between her siblings and parents. It is around that time that she starts to learn what it means to be hungry, because there's only so much food that her poverty-stricken family has.

She tries not to cry, since it won't do her any good. She fails, still being far too young to keep her emotions under control. Her older siblings consider her a nuisance, as does her father, for being unable to do anything other than cry. Her mother at least tries to ease the pain she experiences from hunger, but after a certain point, she just gives up.

And so Casca realizes quite early on how alone she truly is. That night, she cries herself to sleep as she recalls the memories of the life she left behind. She misses her home, her family…

_Everything._

* * *

…

…

_Mamí…Papí…_

I wanna go home—back to everyone I left behind. I only had a couple of more years before I graduated from my university. I finally had a paying job…I was slowly developing into a functional adult after being such an anxious and depressive mess. I was making progress, god dammit!

_And then you died._

Why did I have to die? Why?

_Why was I reborn?_

I should have stayed dead if it meant not being born into this shithole of a village where my own family doesn't even give a damn about me. I'm not even two years old and they're already expecting so much from me…

_I'm still learning how to walk!_

They don't care, though—I'm just another mouth to feed…

_I've heard them talk…_

I can understand them now, after all. Ahahaha, my life fucking sucks…

_It's so funny, that it makes me want to cry…_

…

…

* * *

At four years old, Casca is walking, talking, and running without any issues whatsoever. She has long since been able to go to the bathroom on her own—a feat that she accomplished the exact moment she could. She is still small and frail—a consequence of being born prematurely and malnutrition. She tries hard though, as she is taught how to plow the field by one of her older brothers. Her sisters and mother teach her how to sew so she can learn how to patch up her own clothes—all of which are given to her secondhand. Nothing she receives is new, but she is expected to treasure it nonetheless.

Until she starts learning how to provide for herself, it's all she'll ever get. It angers her, but there's not much she can do about it. All she can do is just accept things as they are.

_For now, at least…_

She spends a year trying to receive acknowledgement of any sort. She isn't sure why she's bothering to try at all, since she feels it's a lost cause. And yet, she still tries anyways. She continues pushing herself when it's her turn to plow the fields, even though her oldest sister steps in after an hour of seeing her struggle. She pricks her fingers many times with a needle as she patches everyone's clothes. Her needlework is still sloppy, but she's improving.

At one point, she tries catching a rabbit that she's seen scampering around the area. She manages only through sheer luck when she trips and stumbles downhill onto the rabbit, effectively crushing it under her own weight. She doesn't weigh much, but the force of the fall was enough to kill the rabbit instantaneously.

Casca spends no time mourning, despite how queasy she feels from killing an animal. All she can think about is how happy her family will be to have meat after going without it for so long. She picks up the rabbit and gets up, making a beeline for her house…

She never makes it home with the rabbit.

"Aah!" A rock is thrown right at her face, stunning her momentarily before a foot kicks her roughly in the stomach. She lands flat on her ass, tears streaming down her cheeks as she heaves a few times. What little food she had in her stomach is emptied onto the ground as a teenaged boy steals the rabbit. She hears him laugh as the stomach acid burns her throat. She feels dizzy and sick, but there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

_I'm too weak…_

She just stays on the ground and watches as the boy walks off, soon disappearing in the distance. She heaves again and then wipes her mouth. She ignores the frustration she feels from letting that happen. She knows she could have at least tried to get it back, but a part of her argues that she shouldn't have to risk her wellbeing over a rabbit that her family might not even share with her.

_The men get first dibs, after all…_

Sexism is alive and well in her village, much to her immense disappointment. It annoys her so much, but it's just something she has to deal with for the rest of her life. Because that's how the world is and it's going to take a lot of time for change to happen.

_I hate this place…_

About a month later, Casca finds herself feeling relieved that she was mistaken for male by that same teenaged boy who had stolen her rabbit. News spreads like wildfire when it is discovered that that boy has been chased out of the village for forcing himself onto a few girls not much older than she is. She finds out through her older sisters, who talk in front of her as though she isn't there. They don't expect her to understand it like they do, but she knows—she  _knows_.

She runs out of the house after that, ignoring her older sisters as they called out for her. She keeps going and going, even after she's reached the forest on the outskirts of her village. She stumbles without paying much attention to her surroundings and soon, she trips on a tree root. She falls and tumbles down a slope she completely overlooked. She lands roughly onto the ground, her head spinning and her stomach churning so unpleasantly.

The half-digested remains of her lunch soon cover the ground as she empties the content of her stomach. She starts crying soon after that, feeling so disgusted that her older sisters can talk about such a serious topic as though it's the norm. Just as she was growing used to the amount of people that have died over the year…that  _had_  to happen.

_That could've been me…_

_That could have been_ _**me** _ _._

That could have been her, had she not been mistaken for male. She considers herself quite fortunate that wasn't her, but then she feels terrible for thinking that way. It shouldn't have happened in the first place—no one deserved to go through that.

_No one…_

So she cries and cries and cries. It's all she can do—she can't help it. This is the first time that she has acted her physical age. She doesn't care about how loud she's sobbing or how weak she looks. There isn't anyone around to see her like this.

_It's just me._

And she's fine with that.

_I'm…fine._

The sun is starting to set when Casca finally stops crying. She hiccups as she stands up and looks around for a way to get back home. She has to get home before it gets dark—it gets really cold at night during this time of the year. And the last thing she wants is to linger around the forest while it's dark.

Casca never makes it out of the forest. Not long after standing up, she notices that she isn't alone. There's still enough light for her to see the ominous shapes hiding in the shadows. She stays still, wondering if it might be a bear.

It's worse.

Her blood runs cold as she watches a hairy, ape-like creature walk out from the shadows. Its size is far larger than hers by a noticeable margin. Its fur is pitch black, with a face that appears to be some sort of hideous combination of a pig and rodent. The creature stares at her with wide, bulging eyes that make her feel absolutely helpless.

_Th-Thump! Th-Thump!_

Her body won't stop shaking and when she opens her mouth, a scream dies in her throat. And just like that, she starts running as fast as she possibly can. She barely avoids a large hand that reaches out to grab her. The creature lets out a bone-chilling shriek that makes Casca look back at it for a brief moment.

_Why did I look back?_

A scream rips itself out of her throat when she sees that there are  **more**  of those things.

_Why are there more?_

She doesn't know, but she still keeps running. Something inside of her head tells her that it will all be over if they catch her.

_I don't want to die!_

Casca didn't beat the odds and live this long just for it to end like this. She refuses for it to end like this! That's why she can't stop running.

_I won't stop!_

She stumbles through a small, narrow space in between some fallen trees. She ignores the bugs and gross grime that she treks through in order to escape the inhuman hands that attempt to grab her. She hears the sound of splitting wood that follows after, notifying her that the creatures are especially strong.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

She starts crying like any other child would in her position. She desperately calls out for her mother and father to help her, in a language that she has not spoken since her rebirth. She claws her way through bushes filled with sharp thorns, doing her best to endure the pain. Compared to dying a second time, this pain doesn't at all compare.

Eventually, she reaches a clearing with a large tree at the center. Her eyes light up at the sight of a small, hollow hole that she sees at the base of the tree's trunk. If she can just get to it in time, then maybe she hide from the creatures…

_It's worth a shot!_

Her body has long since reached its limits and only now has it started taking its toll on her. She is not as physically fit as she'd like to be and if she manages to make it out alive, she swears that she'll start training herself so that she  _is_  physically fit.

She won't live long if she remains this weak…

_Almost…there!_

The hole is just a few more feet away… She just needs to hang in there for a little while longer!

_Almost…!_

_THUD!_

Casca stops completely in her tracks when a creature drops down from the top of the tree and blocks her way. She loses whatever little strength she had left and falls despondently onto her knees.

_I wasn't fast enough…_

Tears splash down her face, her eyes wide from fright. The creatures have her completely surrounded. It's only a matter of time, now…

_I'm going to die._

She is going to die at the hands of these creatures, who she can tell have no mercy whatsoever to spare. She sobs loudly as the ground beneath her grows hot and wet from her own urine. Were she in any other situation, she would've been mortified. Instead, she continues crying and crying, because it's all she can do.

And just like that, her world turns red.

_Ah…_

She stops crying almost immediately when a wave of blood splashes all over her. The metallic scent of blood assaults her nose with its foul stench, but that doesn't bother her much. Rather, what has her attention the most is that all the creatures around her have been sliced into two from the midsection. Blood and organs spill onto the ground, the sight absolutely gruesome and nauseating.

Her stomach churns violently and she heaves. Nothing comes out, but she continues heaving and heaving until she starts crying again. That's when she sees the imposing, armored figure riding a massive horse with a skull over its head. Her breath hitches and her voice dies in her throat when she sees the figure's gleaming yellow eyes and skull-like head.

"It seems you are meant to live another day." The armored figure speaks in a deep, masculine voice that Casca can feel almost vibrating in her ears.

And just like that, an entire five years of denial come crashing down on Casca as she realizes that this is real.

_This shit is fucking_ _**real** _ _._

* * *

…

…

It hits me harder than a ton of bricks. I can't stop shaking and it's so hard to breathe.

_Why, why, why, why, WHY?!_

My heart's beating so fast that it almost feels like it's going to burst. Nightmarish images fill my head, showing me vivid glimpses of a future where many people will die a brutal death because of a pale-skinned man with white hair and blue eyes. My vision spins and dread bubbles in the pit of my stomach when I recall the unfortunate fate that lies in store for the person who's life I took over.

_Why me, of all people?!_

Fourteen years from now, on the day of a solar eclipse, the Eclipse will happen. I'll be there to experience it all, because I just  _had_  to be reborn as Casca from  _Berserk_.

_Why do I have to be Casca?!_

It just had to be me.

_This isn't fair!_

I've managed to live this long out of sheer spite and determination. I lost everything but the memories and feelings I have of my past life. That's all I had going for myself and now—now I'm going to lose that too!

_I'm going lose everything!_

That's not fair…this isn't fair! I don't want this…I  _don't_  want this!

_Don't want, don't want,_ _**don't** _ _want!_

_Dontdontdo_ _**ntdontdont** _ _!_

_Someone—_ _**anyone** _ _!_

_**HELP ME** _ _!_

…

…

* * *

She cries again, her voice loud and completely hysterical. She does nothing when she's lifted off the ground by the armored knight that had saved her from those creatures. She just sobs and sobs as she's taken elsewhere, the gristly remains of the creatures soon disappearing from sight.

And so it is on this day, under the last rays of sunlight of the day, that Casca meets the Skull Knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, as I said before, I was fucking enabled. I had Setsuna in  _Apathy_  mention that she could have had it worse if she was born in the world of  _Berserk_  (which is bad enough already) instead of  _Katekyo Hitman Reborn_. I brought it up again to everyone else in the Clair de Lune Discord chat and went further than that, saying that an SI as Casca would be like…the absolute worst-case scenario for any reincarnated self-inserts, because of all the fucking things that happen to her— _especially_  during Eclipse. So then I get enabled and fucking go back to reading the entirety of  _Berserk_ because I forgot where I last left off, so as a refresher, I went through  **352 chapters**  within the span of like two days.
> 
> I mean, this isn't anything like  _Gone Fishing_ , where I took a fucking week to binge-read  _One Piece_  from  **chapter 237 to 788**  (at the time that fic was published), but I  _still_  got a lot of reading done. Once again, all for the sake of a fucking fic—this is what I do, people. Because I have no life outside of school and the job I got over winter break!
> 
> By the by, like over 500 words were written on a tablet while I was at work, because nothing was going on and I had the time to do it. There is nothing I can't do after going through like one month without a functioning laptop and having to rely on my excessive amount of tablets to write out nearly  **50,000 words**  for my  _Persona 5_  fic,  _Jamais Vu_.
> 
> So yeah, I have a feeling there will be a lot more writing going on this year because of that, so rejoice! I will try my best to get more updates done this year, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> This is probably the bleakest I've ever started a fic, but it's also the easiest, where I tend to struggle a lot with starting fics (Kimura Jun from  _Jamais Vu_  was stuck on the subway for  **three days**  before she got off and finally reached her homestay at Café Leblanc—that's how bad it was). So yeah, I have no idea what's going to happen throughout this fic, but all I know is that SI Casca, (referred to as Casica, thanks to  **sealingdesigneejosephine** ) is going to do whatever it takes to avoid what happens during Eclipse.
> 
> By the by, due to a suggestion from  **ShadedCat** , Casica is a lot smaller and frailer than canon Casca because she was born two months prematurely, and malnutrition has  **not**  been kind to her development at all.
> 
> So this is about it for now, so I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! Until next time, everyone! 


	2. Acceptance

She's a lot smaller and frailer than the Skull Knight had been expecting for someone so loud. She's also quite stubborn, having managed to live this long despite the setbacks given to her. Since the day she was born, the world has been trying to kill her.

" _She's not very good at dying, though—so why don't we give her a hand?"_

Flora's words were initially confusing, if a bit ominous. She certainly meant well, though, from the way she advised him to prepare for his encounter with the child. Where her future lies, even Flora does not know.

" _It's all up to her."_

The most he and Flora can do is give her a small push, so he decides to borrow her for the time being. He's certain her parents won't mind.

" _It's one less mouth they'll have to feed for a while."_  Such is the way of those who live in villages where food is especially scarce. It's probably why he doesn't hear her calling out for her parents.  _"How unfortunate."_

She keeps crying and crying until she finally passes out. She doesn't wake up until dawn, when Skull Night drops her into a river. She reacts exactly how he expects her to react, sputtering and screaming before going silent at the sight of him.

"Clean yourself up," he tells her. He would prefer it if she no longer reeked of blood.

She continues staring at him, not bothering to give him a response. It's only when he turns his back to her that she finally starts moving. He hears water splashing and a few sounds of disgust coming from her. Despite having narrowly escaped death, the child can still find it in her to show her displeasure out of being covered in blood.

" _How quaint."_  Skull Knight doesn't expect this behavior to last—it never does.

…

…

Casca gags a few times as she watches the blood and grime on her skin and clothes turn the water around her into a murky shade of red. It grosses her out with how much grime she had collected during the past few days and she can only hope that the blood will wash out from her clothes…

It takes her more than an hour to wash out the blood from her clothes and another thirty minutes to scrub off the remaining blood on her skin and hair. It's a lot harder without any soap and it takes her a good fifteen minutes to realize that this is as good as it's going to get when she can't get rid of the smell.

_I've took too many things for granted…_

A part of her regrets ever going days without showering in her past life—depression and executive dysfunction be damned. At least she  _had_  the choice of being clean unlike now, where she can go more than a week without bathing. Having a choice makes  _so_  much of a difference that it's almost ridiculous.

_Fucking hell, I miss soap…_

She also misses having her privacy, because good fucking luck finding  _that_  here! Skull Knight is right there, just watching her every movement as she leaves the water. She looks him right in the eye (or what she  _thinks_  might be his eyes) as she hangs up her clothes to dry, acting as though she  _totally_  isn't naked (when she  _is_ ). She lasts a total of five minutes before crouching down into a small ball out of embarrassment.

_Can this get any worse?_

_Growl._

Casca nearly swears out loud at that moment. She resists the urge she has to hit herself for even thinking that as she tries to ignore her growling stomach. It's a lot harder this time around, when everything fucking  _hurts_. She's cold, wet, hungry, and  _scared_ —she's just so fucking  _scared_ …

_Because I'm Casca now…_

And Casca has  _everything_  to fear with her future.

_Do I really_ _**have** _ _a future?_

She laughs hollowly, not knowing how else to react to that thought. She laughs and she laughs and she laughs. Tears splash down her face as her laughter grows more and more forced. Soon, she's crying again—because it still isn't fair.

_It's not fucking_ _**fair** _ _!_

"Have you given up?" The Skull Knight startles her silent with how close his voice. That's when she notices how close he has gotten.

"Ahh…" a small squeak escapes her mouth as she stares up at the Skull Knight. It's alarming to see that someone so huge can exist. It just makes her feel even smaller than she already is…

"Do you truly wish to die?" he asks her, sounding far too ominous for comfort.

_Die?_

_I died once…_

But she didn't stay dead.

_I should have…_

Had she stayed dead, she wouldn't have to deal with this bitch of a world as Casca. She wouldn't have to worry about her future—because the dead have no future. One has to be alive to have a future.

_So why am I still alive?_

If she wanted to die, then she wouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive. She would have died yesterday at the hands of those monsters. That would have been the end of her short, pathetic life…but she's still alive.

_I'm still alive._

Despite her fear and anger towards the world, she's still alive…because she  _wants_  to stay alive. Against all odds, she's still alive—and she'll be  _damned_  if she lets herself die so easily.

_Not after all that you've been through…_

The memories she has of a late friend from her past life remind her of her resolve to stay alive. No matter how difficult things got or how pointless life seemed, she made her decision to not make the same, irreversible choice her friend made during a fit of despair.

_You never know how much your life matters to others until it's too late…_

Even though she has no one as Casca, she still has her memories. She has so many precious memories of the life she left behind…

_That's all I need._

That's all she really needs to help her work up the courage to stand up and answer Skull Knight's question.

"I-I don't…w-w-want to die." Casca finds herself crying again—she just can't help it. That's when the Skull Knight removes his cape and lets it fall over her small frame. The fabric is surprisingly soft to the touch despite its tattered appearance and smells faintly of herbs. It's not anything that Casca would expect from Skull Knight.

"Then our paths were meant to cross," so says the Skull Knight. "Saving you was no mistake."

Casca has little room to ask any questions before the Skull Knight drops a leather bag at her feet. Curiosity easily gets the best of her and she kneels down to investigate the contents of the bag. Her mouth is practically salivating when she finds that the bag contains strips of dry meat. She has to force herself to stay calm when she grabs a strip. She nibbles at the end, ignoring every thought she has that screams at her to eat as much as she can. It's been so long since she's had meat and the last thing she wants to do is throw up.

She closes the bag and stands up, holding it out for the Skull Knight to take back. He shakes his head.

"It was never mine to begin with," he tells her. "It's all yours."

Casca stares at him for a moment…then she charges forward and wraps her arms around his leg in a somewhat awkward embrace.

"Thank you, Mr. Skull Knight!" she exclaims, actually sounding happy for once.

The Skull Knight gives her no response and just stares at her, finding this encounter of theirs to be most peculiar.

" _Most peculiar indeed…"_  he thinks.

But not unwanted by any means.

…

…

Casca clings to the Skull Knight like a duckling following its mother. She never strays far from his side, preferring to be as cautious as possible. She asks him many questions to pass the time—about his likes and dislikes. She receives no answers from him as he chooses to remain silent. She doesn't let it bother her, though. Instead, she continues asking him questions until he finally answers one.

"Do you think that there's any hope for me?" It's not a question that a child would normally ask, and it shows with how much older she suddenly appears.

The Skull Knight finds himself staring at her as he carefully considers his words. A minute passes before he gives his response. "Tell me…what kind of future it is that you seek?"

"I…" she begins, pausing for a moment to think. "I…want a future where the people I cherish can live. I won't always be alone, so I want to make sure that doesn't change when I meet those people…"

The Skull Knight isn't surprised to hear her so casually exclude her family from that future. If anything, it's to be expected. He knows not of her life in that village, but he can tell that she is an unwanted child. The fact that no one is searching for her right now is telling of how little she matters to the people whose blood she shares. "Then…it all depends on how hard you work for that future."

She has lived this long defying fate…and she will certainly live her life continuing that trend. Wherever the future takes her, it's all up to her. It's as Flora has told him—the most they can do is give her a hand.

So he watches over her during the next few days, helping her make a fire when she has issues starting one on her own. She takes his words of knowledge to heart and the next time she tries to start a fire, she does so without any issues. She uses his cape to stay warm during the evenings and while she sleeps. She washes it in the river afterwards, saying it's the least she can do in return.

At some point, he finds himself cutting her hair when her thick, black locks managed to get tangled on a branch. It's a wonder how she's managed with such an unruly mess for so long without any issues…

"Long hair is not suitable for combat," he tells her, not knowing what else to say to her. He isn't sure if she wants to keep her hair long like most girls her age would, but the way she thanks him after he's done tell him how little she actually cared about its long length.

If anything, she prefers her hair this way, with how the ends just brush the tops of her shoulders.

"So what else isn't suitable for combat?" she asks him later that evening, looking far too eager than a child her age should be.

…

More than two weeks have passed by the time the Skull Knight decides that it's time they part ways. Casca is hesitant at first, still so wary at the thought of ever leaving his side. He eases her nerves with a parting gift—an anklet that Flora had woven out of hemp and decorated with beads made out of lapis.

"It should keep you safe for the time being." It won't guarantee her survival, but it should help nonetheless. "Now…it's time for you to return to your village."

"Do I…Do I have to?" Casca frowns.

"I cannot stay here any longer," he tells her. "So yes, you have to."

"Fine." She pouts quite childishly, looking her actual age for once as they start making their way out of the forest. She still stays close to his side, until the very end when they finally leave the forest. When the Skull Knight shows no sign of following her, Casca stops and dashes back to his side to give his leg one last embrace.

After that, she leaves his side and returns to her village. As soon as she is out of sight, the Skull Knight goes back into the forest. His job is done for the time being, as there is not much else he can do. As he goes deeper and deeper into the forest, he finds himself hoping that the child will at least makes it to adulthood.

"May our paths cross again."

…

…

When Casca returns to her village, she finds that there is nothing left of it. All that remains is burnt ashes of many people's homes—of which includes hers. When she finds her family, she isn't at all surprised that they don't act that differently when they see she's alive. Instead, she asks what happened and finds that there had been a raid on the village in her absence.

" _That's right."_  She had almost forgotten that this poor, farming village was often a target for raids.  _"It's so close to the border…"_

And yet, despite that fact, this is the first time her village has been raided—during her lifetime at the least. It's strange, but she doesn't think much about it, though. It doesn't really matter to her because she honestly doesn't give a damn about this place. She doesn't plan on staying here her entire life—not if she wants to have a future worth living for.

Her time with Skull Knight has given her enough hope for the future, despite its risks. After all, it's all up to her if she wants to avoid her canon counterpart's fate.

" _I won't let that happen."_  Not in this lifetime or ever.

…

Casca goes about living her life as normally as she can…which is difficult when she has to help rebuild her own village. She sees her first dead body about a day into this, barely having much time to even react before a couple of boys start throwing rocks at her. She doesn't know why they're throwing rocks at her, but she throws them right back at them. They leave her alone after that.

" _Good riddance."_  She huffs angrily before kneeling down to scavenge the dead body for anything useful. She gags a few times at the rancid smell coming from the corpse. There are so many things that she could've gone her life without ever knowing—the way a corpse smells is one of them.

She finds absolutely nothing of value on the corpse and proceeds to go fetch the closest adult to help bring the body over to the nearest open grave. Without any warning whatsoever, she finds herself getting kicked in the stomach. She doubles over and then falls to the ground in pain. She heaves violently, the meager remains of her breakfast soon covering the ground right next to her face.

Tears flood her eyes, effectively blurring her vision as she looks up at the adult who had kicked her. She wants to ask him why—why did he do that to her? Just what did she do to deserve that?

Instead, she just heaves again as the tears roll down her cheeks. When she looks up again, her eyes widen in shock. What she sees on the adult's face is disgust and hatred—all of which is directed at her. He spits on her afterwards and then takes his leave to go attend to the corpse she had found.

_Did I do something wrong?_

She chokes back a sob and wipes her eyes on the back of her sleeve. She picks herself up and takes a moment to brush off the dirt on her clothes. When she comes across the next corpse in her path, she avoids scavenging it altogether. Instead, she flips the corpse onto its back and then goes off to find another adult. She takes care to avoid crossing paths with a couple of children who are fighting over scraps and keeps her guard up when she walks up to an adult. He's not the same person who had kicked her, but she is still wary nonetheless.

The adult doesn't hurt her like the previous adult, but for about a minute or so, he just stares at her. He says nothing to her, his expression devoid of any particular emotion. When he finally leaves her side to go get the body she found, relief washes over her.

_What…was that about?_

Her heart is pounding so hard within her chest, the anxiety slowly eating away at her mind. She exhales shakily, feeling somewhat lightheaded.

_At least he didn't hurt me…_

A part of her wants to feel thankful for that, but another part of her wonders if what had happened was actually any better.

_I don't know…_

Casca tries not to think too much about it as she helps move some debris. She isn't strong by any means to do much, but she does so anyways after being told by her oldest brother to not be such a burden. The physical labor leaves her body sore and unable to keep much within her stomach due to overexertion. She is still so frail and physically unfit, but Casca knows that there isn't much she can do about that unless she fixes it herself. This is the best she can do for the time being—at least until she figures out a way to train in secret.

As the days slowly go by, Casca begins to notice that something is… _off_. It all starts with the way her family acts around her. She's used to being considered a burden, but this behavior of theirs—it isn't anything like she's used to. When they think she isn't paying attention, they start to whisper behind her back. She can't understand what it is that they are saying, but from the way they would often look in her direction, there's no doubt that they're talking about her.

A few times, she catches her older sisters gossiping with other girls their age. Once—only  _once_ —does she manage to overhear their conversation. She doesn't mean to, but the damage has already been done.

"I always knew that there was something wrong with her."

"The signs were all there when she was born after a raid."

"It's strange that she's still alive. After all, children like her aren't meant to live."

"Only someone so cursed can live while others die in their place."

"Why else was she able to avoid the raid while the rest of us were suffering?"

"She should have died like the other children who were born after the raid."

What has been heard cannot be unheard.

_I'm a curse?_

It is on this day that Casca learns of the unfortunate turn that her life has now taken. Once a scapegoat has been decided on by the others, there's not much that can be done about it.

_So this is my life now…_

Casca doesn't know what to think of this…so she laughs. She laughs and she laughs and she laughs. Her laughter sounds so hollow, but no one dares to give the cursed child the benefit of the doubt. Instead, those who are within her vicinity disperse and leave her all alone. Her laughter only grows louder after that.

Then, when she realizes how alone she is for a second time, she starts to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, yeah, Casica has it pretty rough since the world of Berserk does have it in for her—after all, she isn't exactly supposed to exist as an SI. She's an anomaly that the world is trying to reject, but she's still here…and she refuses to go down so easily.
> 
> Skull Knight and Flora aren't exactly aware of the situation regarding her status of a self-insert. They just know that she has the potential to change the future that's ahead of her. How—it really is up to her. So Casica has a lot on her plate and she's still only like five years old.
> 
> Many thanks to AngstArbitually (Shaded Cat) for helping me out with this chapter, as it's thanks to him that there was an early Skull Knight encounter with Casica. He's also the one who suggested the anklet with lapis beads that Flora would've made for Casica. Really, Flora and Skull Knight are just giving Casica a bit of a nudge so that she isn't completely hopeless about her own future.
> 
> That doesn't mean Casica will have it any easier. She still has to get through the next six to seven years of her life before she meets up with Griffith. I can tell you know—it's gonna be rough and when the time comes that she has to leave her village, she will NOT be sad to leave that shithole whatsoever. She is definitely quite different from my other SI/SIOCs, since Casica really does have no one. Even QSS!Naruto has Teuchi and his daughter, but Casica?
> 
> All she had was Skull Knight and now that he's gone, she's all alone.
> 
> Anyways, thank you guys so much for taking the time to comment and give this fic a chance! I'm honestly looking forward to seeing how this fic develops! So I'm gonna try to at least get one update in every month for this fic. Do understand if I can't stick to that goal…
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Until next time, everyone!


	3. Weed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gotta put up some warnings, because even though I gave them at the start of this fic, I might as well add more to this chapter cuz it's like a regular thing.
> 
>  
> 
> **Warnings: child abuse, child neglect, attempted sexual assault, mentioned/implied pedophilia, violent ostracization**

It takes them more than a year to finish rebuilding their village—not that it actually matters much to Casca. It's hard to give a shit about anything when you're treated like crap.

_Ithurtsithurtsithurtsit_ _**hurts** _

She wipes her eyes on the back of her sleeve, ignoring the emptiness she feels in her chest as she goes further and further into the forest. No one ever follows her here—they're too busy trying to avoid her.

_Hatehatehatehate_ _**hatehate** _ _._

The life of a cursed child is anything but desirable. Where people speak her name with such distaste and act as though she isn't there (when she is). Where her own family has casted her aside from their living quarters, giving her a poorly made shack as means of shelter. They haven't fully disowned her, but they might as well with how often they ignore her.

She no longer eats with them, having been banned from family meals altogether. Nowadays, all she gets scraps. Occasionally, she'll get a meager piece of stale bread and bowl of thin broth. Sometimes, she's given cheese with her meal and very rarely, a slice of meat, though she never eats it—not when it's always full of maggots. She may be starving, but Casca still has her standards in what she'll force herself to eat.

_I'm not taking chances with maggots._

Instead, she takes advantage of the opportunity that she's given and uses them as bait to catch fish in the forest. She'd like to say that she's no longer as hungry as she was before, but that would be a lie. Without any proper fishing equipment, there's only so much fish that she can catch at a time before her makeshift line snaps.

Through trial and error, she's figured out how to make her own fishing line. It's not an easy task, especially with how limited Casca is with her resources. It takes her a few days to make a new line out of sewing thread, due to how much extra care she needs to take to reinforce its strength. She is never without sewing thread, as she is expected to mend her own clothing. So long as she takes care to avoid any serious tears in her clothing, then she can set aside enough thread for her fishing line.

Casca still starves every so often, but not to the same extent as before.

…

…

* * *

A part of me feels so guilty for keeping everything to myself. A part of me also doesn't give a shit. The one time I tried sharing with some of the children, I got scolded by their parents and the rest of the adults. Since then, I've had rocks and rotten food thrown in my direction from those very same children that I've tried to help.

I don't want to blame them. I  _really_  don't, since it's the adults that keep feeding them crap about me.

_Just worry about yourself—it's not worth it._

* * *

…

…

It's not long after that the village begins plowing the fields in an attempt to grow some crops. Sometimes, they're successful, but it's never enough to make a difference. It's what motivates Casca to sneak out in the dead of night to dig up some of the seeds that have been planted. It's not like anyone will notice, with how barren the land is…

Little by little, Casca collects the seeds into a little bag. She keeps at it, despite the villagers blaming her for something that she was only  _somewhat_  at fault for.

_It's not my fault that the land is so barren…_

It takes her months to fill the bag, which she takes into the forest with her. She goes further and further until she finds the clearing where she first met the Skull Knight. The remains of the creatures that have tried to kill her have made the soil rather fertile, encouraging the growth of much greenery that wasn't there previously. She has since discarded the bones that were left over, throwing them into the river for good measure.

It doesn't do much, but it does make Casca feel a lot less hesitant to make use of the land to experiment. It takes her a month to till the ground, using only a bowl and her bare hands. Often, she cracks her nails on the rocks she has to dig out of the ground by hand, not wanting to cause any damage to her bowl.

She catches a lot more fish, no longer worrying about what goes to waste. What she can't eat, she buries in the ground where she plants the seeds. Every few days, she waters the field, making multiple trips to and from the river to transport the water in a bowl. It's usually night by the time that she finishes. The soft glow of the stones from her anklet illuminates her path as she makes her way through the dark forest.

She considers it a blessing that no one ever asks about her whereabouts. If they knew what she was up to, she's quite certain that it'll only fuel their ill-conceived beliefs. Knowing them, they'll blame her for robbing them of their success.

_They already blame me for every fucking thing that happens to them…_

Young mothers blame Casca for the stillborns and miscarriages that they've had, despite the fact that the likely cause was the lack of proper nutrition—a common occurrence in a village where people often die of starvation. Whenever something breaks, Casca hears her name being muttered like a curse.

Someone's horse just died? It's Casca's fault.

The crops are suffering? Also Casca's fault.

She seduced someone's husband? Okay, that one was slightly her fault—but  _only_  because she took someone's eye out. Everything else was entirely that man's fault for even daring to  _try_  such a despicable deed on a young girl. Not that it matters much, since everyone's taken to blaming the victim and ignoring the fact that a fucking pedophile got off the hook.

_Should've sliced his dick off instead…_

The rock was sharp enough take his eye out—so she could've done it. And she actually does, when someone else tries to take his chances on her. This time, it was a boy in his late teens—still so inexperienced yet lacking in decency. She hopes that he asks himself if it was worth it, each day that he wakes up, knowing that he'll never have children because of her…

Casca is left alone after that, though that doesn't stop her from always keeping a sharp rock in her pocket. She never knows when someone else will decide to take their chances, despite her track record of maiming those who even so much as touch her. It doesn't help her much when a man who is caught molesting the village children proclaims that he only does it because of her.

She gets the shit beaten out of her as a result. She walks with a limp for the next few days, staying out of sight in the forest until her injuries are completely healed. She considers herself fortunate to have avoided any serious injuries. It still hurts, but she can handle it…

_I hope…_

Casca spends more and more time in the forest after that, having noticed how fast her injuries have been healing. It frightens her at first, but then she recalls the anklet that she's been given and calls it a day. An accelerated healing factor isn't that farfetched when she considers that the anklet's purpose was to keep her safe. Though, it isn't exactly something that she can let anyone else know about… The last thing she needs is for people to start calling her a witch, which is an actual concern that she now has.

_What_ _ **fun** _ _…_

And yet, as the days go by, Casca starts to wonder. She knows that witches exist and from what she recalls reading, sorcery is usually taught from an early age.

" _This is because the older people get, the more they become tied to the material world."_

"And it is very hard to break those bonds…" Casca murmurs to herself as she uproots an especially stubborn weed from her garden. "I wonder…"

_What does that make me?_

Casca can only wonder as she throws the uprooted weed over her shoulder. Nothing will ever change the fact that she is not formerly from this world, being a reincarnated soul that took over the body of an infant that should have not survived.

_I shouldn't be alive._

But she is.

_Would_ _**she** _ _have survived?_

Casca doesn't know…she probably won't  **ever**  know. That is a fact that she will have to live with for the rest of her (second) life.

_Assuming I even live that long…_

She sighs, taking a moment to wipe the sweat off her brow. She scans the garden, keeping a careful eye out for any weeds that she might have missed. When she sees that there aren't any left, she decides to take a much-needed break. She sits down, a smile crossing her face as she takes in the sight of her garden. It's not much, but it's something… She's certainly doing better than her village.

_And that's a fact._

Casca is almost seven years old now. She has succeeded where her village has failed and despite their efforts to keep her down, she still manages to thrive—much like the weeds she continuously has to uproot.

"Maybe I  _am_  a cursed child." A sardonic smile tugs at her lips, laughter soon bubbling in her throat as she reconsiders the impact that her existence has had. "I guess I got nothing to lose, huh?"

_What were those basics again…?_

…

…

The first step in becoming a magic user is a fundamental exercise of "thought drawing a concrete phenomenon in your mind."

_I got to draw it in my head…_

Casca stares at the anklet she wears, memorizing every detail that she can see as she draws it in the dirt. She keeps at it for a full three days, stopping only after realizing the limitations of using only a stick and dirt. That's when she starts looking through the forest for plants, berries, and flowers that leave a colorful residue of any kind. She then collects the strips of bark that have been falling off some trees and starts to experiment.

Using a small knife that she's stolen, Casca cuts off clumps of her hair in various sizes and gets to work. She makes a couple of paintbrushes and tests out the "inks" she has made out of the plants, flowers, and berries she had crushed. By the end of the week, Casca has gone back to drawing her anklet. She has made incredible progress, but it still isn't enough for her until she can draw her anklet completely from memory.

_Just keep at it…_

_Just_ _**keep** _ _at it._

The days turn into weeks, which soon turn into months. Casca is now seven years old when she can draw her anklet from memory. Her hair is as uneven as can be, from the various clumps that she's cut off in order to make more brushes. Her clothes are stained with the ink that she's made, which has earned her a few stares from her family as they tried to figure out what it is that Casca does when she is completely out of sight.

Casca waits a few more days, in which she continues to draw her anklet from memory, before she considers herself ready. That afternoon, while the sun was shining brightly in the sky, Casca stares at her anklet. She burns its image into her mind, as she has done many times before. Slowly, she closes her eyes and within the darkness of her mind, she begins to draw the image of the anklet that she has dedicated so much time to memorizing. From its shape to its color to  _all_  the details that one wouldn't normally care about, Casca draws it all.

It's a fuzzy image at first, the way the color almost blends with each other. Slowly, it grows clearer and clearer. As the days go by, Casca begins to see a distinct shape. It still isn't enough, but it's most definitely a start.

With each passing day, while the sun is shining most brightly, Casca continues with this exercise of hers. A few times, she manages to fall asleep without meaning to, having been locked into such deep concentration. Often, it's while she's in the forest, where no one can bother her.

On her way back from such an occurrence, Casca finds herself being unable to return home out while the village is throwing its seasonal festival. It's the first festival that they've thrown in years and the last thing they want is the cursed child ruining their festivities—or so she's been told. There is very little room for her to react at all before a bucket of feces is thrown at her.

It's the last straw—really, it is. She stands deathly still, her eyes as wide as can be as she just stares at the people around her. Anger bubbles up in the pit of her stomach, burning intensely as tears prick her eyes. The smell is horrendous, causing her to retch violently once she's no longer immobilized by shock. The villagers point and laugh at her, caring not for the logic of blaming an innocent child for all their misfortunes.

_What did I ever do to deserve this?_

She hears them cheering when she leaves, unable to handle the strain of emotions that she feels within their presence. She hates them so much.

_Hate, hate, hate,_ _**hate** _ _._

She hates  _everything_  about them. She hates how they all latched so easily onto the idea that she was to blame for everything—because they were perfectly fine with accepting things as they happened, no matter how bad they were. That's how life was before she was made the village scapegoat…which is yet another thing that she hates about them.

She knows that it isn't their fault ( _mostly_ ), but it still bothers her so much because they don't even  _try_. They just stick to their usual routines and continue living through a repetitive cycle of misery. That's why nothing ever changes—why everything stays the same.

If they could just let her help…then  _maybe_  she could make a difference.

_Maybe…_

Deep down, she knows it's a lost cause. But she still thinks about it nonetheless—it makes her feel better when she is feeling especially vindictive. Because for once, it's  _their_  fault—not hers—for everything bad that has happened so far.

_Karma is a bitch._

All things considered, if she was as cursed as they make her out to be, then the last thing anyone should be doing is mistreating her.

_But what do I know?_

She's just a child who shouldn't have lived as long as she has—a weed that just won't die. And that's all she'll ever be to them…

_Just five more years…_

"Just…five more years," Casca tells herself as she bathes in the river. She tries her hardest not to throw up, tries not to cry when she does. She sobs loudly, her voice falling on deaf ears as it echoes throughout the forest.

…

…

Casca burns her clothes when she is unsuccessful in washing out the stains. She knows better than to waste the clothing that she receives, at it isn't much to begin with, but she just…can't push herself to care. She sits by the fire, dressed only in a worn-out chemise that she's taken from one of her sisters when they weren't looking. The size is massive on her small frame, but she doesn't care—it's better than being naked, after all.

She stays out of sight for the next few days, refusing to leave the forest until she's fucking sure that the festival is over. To pass the time, she continues with her thought-drawing exercises. By now, Casca can see a distinct shape—far better than it has ever been before. It leaves her feeling elated, adding an extra bounce to her step as she carefully makes her way back home.

She's a lot more careful this time, using the light of the moon to her advantage in order to sneak into the village. She goes undetected as she gathers her belongings and a few other things that aren't necessarily hers…but what does she care? She's too busy enjoying the food that she's taken from the table.

It's recently made, still somewhat warm and of a palatable consistency that is easy on her stomach. She savors each bite, chewing slowly as she makes her way back into the forest. She goes to sleep with a full stomach, with enough food leftover to last her maybe a couple of days. She sleeps peacefully on a bed that she's made out of the clothes that she had stolen, dreaming of a life far better than this.

When she wakes, the first thing she notices is singing.

" _Kuwata tsunovalai,_

_Tsurizhei, furaligai._

_Quonduvait unbufertn blonuwail,_

_Shrtetei shigiyiado…"_

Slowly, she sits up, her eyes focusing blurrily on a fair-skinned young woman with thick, wavy hair. Her hair is a peculiar shade of maroon, standing out considerably to Casca after growing so used to the sight of darkly-colored hair. She stands out even more when Casca notices her aqua-colored eyes.

The young woman is dressed modestly in loose clothing, with pants that are the color of her hair, dark gray sleeves that cover her arms, and a white shirt of some sort that drapes over her torso. She sits on a tree root, completely unaware of Casca as she continues to sing in a language that she does not know.

_Pretty…_

Casca remains silent, not wanting to interrupt the young woman as she continued to sing. It takes her almost three minutes to work up the nerve to call out to her.

"H-Hello?" she says in a nervous and hesitant tone.

The young woman stops singing almost immediately, her head turning towards the hollow hole in the base of the tree. A smile forms on her lips as she catches sight of Casca, causing her face to heat up with a blush.

"Hello!" the young woman greets her. "Did I wake you?"

Casca swallows hard, feeling somewhat uneasy over the fact that the young woman had been aware of her presence. She was supposed to have been out of sight, after all…

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about," she reassures Casca, having noticed her uneasiness almost immediately. "Are you hungry?"

_Growl._

Casca's face turns a dark shade of red when she hears the young woman laugh.

"I'll take that as a yes!" She smiles brightly as she pats the space right next to her, motioning at Casca to join her. "I'm Devola."

"C-Casca…" Casca replies somewhat shyly as she crawls out from the hole in the base of the tree. She sits next to Devola, who wastes no time in starting a conversation with her. And so, for the first time in two years, Casca finds herself having a friendly chat with a complete stranger.

It's…nice. Part of her craves the positive attention, having gone so long without it. She doesn't even care that Devola is treating her like a child, because it's far better than what she's used to. Half-way into their conversation, Devola stops her, having noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" she asks, frowning.

Casca almost wants to lie, because it's what she's used to doing. Except, when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is a choked sob. And so Devola wraps an arm around her, whispering soothing words to Casca as she starts to cry.

By the time that Casca stops crying, another woman shows up with an arm full of sticks. She looks exactly like Devola, differing only in how much neater her hair looks. She's a lot more composed compared to Devola, who is definitely the more outgoing of the two.

"I'm Popola," she introduces herself. "Do you know where Flora is?"

Casca furrows her brow. Why… _Why_  would she expect her to know that? " _Who_?"

"Oh, sorry—we've been following Flora's magic since it was in the area," Devola explains. "We're travelers and it's not often that we come across other witches, so we just wanted to have a chat."

"I'm guessing that that's the source of her magic we've been following, right?" Popola points at the anklet that Casca is wearing.

"Hmm…" Devola looks closely at Casca's anklet. "Looks like a protective charm—but that's  _definitely_  Flora's magic."

"I-If you say so…" It's honestly too much for Casca to process all at once as she tries to keep up with Popola and Devola's conversation. That's when it suddenly hits her… "You're witches?!"

"Oh—we won't hurt you!" Devola is quick to say. "We're not like what the rumors say, okay?"

"O-Okay…" Casca knows a lot more than she lets on, but for her sake, she continues to play dumb. "So Flora is the one who made this anklet?"

"Did she not give it to you?" Popola tilts her head to the side.

"No—the Skull Knight gave it to me." It's been almost two years now since she had last seen him… "Do you know of him?"

_Growl._

And just like that, Casca's stomach picks the best time to make her hunger known. Like before, Devola laughs.

"I think we should wait until we've had breakfast," Popola says as she promptly drops the armload of sticks onto the ground. "Are you fine with that?"

Casca nods her head, unable to find the right words to say. She can't keep herself from smiling—she's just so happy, to have someone to talk to. To be able to eat with someone who doesn't outright ignore her… To be treated like a human being.

Casca finds herself crying a second time as she's served a bowl of porridge. She's just so happy, that she just can't stop…

_Five more years…_

Just five more years…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, Noa's back with another chapter and I've been off to a great fucking start with NaNoWriMo, like god DAMN IT. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, because this is pretty much the start of what Casica is doing to prepare for the future. Spot the references, too, because they're there!
> 
> I usually make it a thing with every fic I write, so that's a thing. But yeah, if anyone is still wondering, we're on the path to witch!Casca, so that's something.
> 
> Thank you all so much for taking the time to comment! Please do take the time to continue giving feedback, I'd appreciate it! It's always kept me motivated to keep on writing!
> 
> Anyways, that's all I have for now. I'm just getting ready to eat some good food today, so I hope y'all have a good day in which we feast on a turkey and other stuff. Until next time!!


	4. Perseverance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, have some more warnings because FUCK am I gonna let you guys go in without any idea of what to expect.
> 
> **Warnings: mentions of child abuse, child neglect, attempted sexual assault and pedophilia, brutal violence**

Casca rarely ever leaves the forest now, since she’s learning so much from Popola and Devola than anyone else. They treat her with the respect she deserves, helping her out whenever she needs their help the most. Despite how often she tries, Casca is still bound to the frustrating limitations of her physical age.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Devola reassures her. “Everyone has their limits. You just need to be aware of yours.”

That is the very first thing that Casca learns from Popola and Devola. It doesn’t seem like much at first glance, but Casca knows better than to underestimate the lesson she’s been taught. In a world as unforgiving as this one, knowing one’s own limitations can mean the difference between life and death.

_Once was enough…_

And Casca wants to keep it at that. So she listens intently to the risks that Popola lays down for her as she begins her next lesson in sorcery. It’s to keep her from getting too careless. The thought-drawing exercises continue throughout these lessons, though Casca is no longer focusing on just her anklet. Devola gives her challenging objects to recreate and often encourages her to go at her own pace.

It’s a slow and steady process, but Casca doesn’t mind—not when she has Popola and Devola at her side.

_I’m **not** alone…_

More than a month has passed when Casca takes her first step into the astral realm. She does so by using the astral body that she’s created for herself. The process itself is a lot easier than she was expecting, considering that it’s only been a week since Popola gave her a mirror to observe her own reflection. She supposes that she’s not that complex to begin with, unlike the various gemstones that Devola possesses.

At the same time, she knows that much has changed about her since her initial meeting with the twins. She’s grown a bit, having filled out somewhat as a result of the consistent access that she’s had to food. Devola’s skillful needlework had given clothing that actually fit her small frame. Popola had used a sharp blade to even out the mess that Casca had made of her hair. It’s still as short as ever, though it’s certainly neater than it’s ever been before.

Casca wonders if she should be happy about these changes. She wants to be, but she knows that it will only last as long as Popola and Devola stay. So she tries her best to not grow so attached…

She fails when she lets her guard down after coming across the burning remains of her village during her exploration through the astral realm. The sight alone is enough to shock her back into her own body. The panic sets in almost immediately, pushing Casca over the edge as she breaks down into heavy sobs. Popola and Devola immediately attend to her, which is how Casca becomes painfully aware of how touch-starved she is. She leans into their touch, clinging tightly onto the comfort it brings her.

It’s hard to keep her distance after that, when it’s so obvious of how attached she’s grown to the two. She knows that it’ll only hurt her even more when the day comes that they leave, but she doesn’t care. Instead, she tries to make the most of the time that she spends with Popola and Devola.

Another month passes before Popola finally asks about her village. Casca answers honestly while in Devola’s embrace.

“I was afraid,” she admits, finally realizing herself of what it was that had caused her so much panic. “Afraid of how they’ll treat me when I go back.”

She can keep her distance however long she wants, but she knows that she’ll eventually have to return to that village. And when she does…

“They’re gonna blame me for the raid again…” The fact that this is the second time that she’s missing from her village when its been raided by bandits is far too convenient for the villagers to ignore. It certainly doesn’t help that it happened right after the night of the festival, when she fled into the forest.

“It’s not fair, is it?” Popola’s tone is harshly blunt, but her expression is a lot softer than her voice lets on. “To be blamed for something that isn’t your fault at all.”

“To be casted out for reasons you can’t understand…” There’s a level of understanding that Devola has from the way she speaks. It’s perplexing, yet…also comforting.

Time and time again, Casca has to constantly remind herself that she’s not alone.

_Not now, at least…_

Popola and Devola never talk much about their past. What little Casca knows is that the three of them are not much different from each other. So she leaves it at that and continues learning as much as she can from the two.

Within a few months, Casca learns how to read in a language she’s never seen before. It’s the language she speaks, though there’s nothing about it that she can recognize from her past. It’s all too new to her, though she doesn’t exactly mind. Instead, she continues reading as much as she can. No matter how many books she goes through, Popola always has another to share.

Casca reads about stories from the past, vaguely aware of what is truth and what is fantasy. About scriptures that she wouldn’t otherwise come across that easily. She goes through them within a matter of days, her mind absolutely starved for knowledge.

A year passes and Popola and Devola finally take their leave. It comes almost out of nowhere, but Casca knows better than to ignore the signs that have always been there. The last she sees of them is in a comforting dream. Under the night sky, she stands with Popola and Devola in a field of white flowers. The flowers shine just as brightly as the full moon above them, lighting the field with an almost ethereal glow.

All is calm, and nothing hurts.

Then Casca wakes up and finds herself completely on her own. Not too surprisingly, she starts to cry, having grown far too attached to the only people that showed her kindness. She cries and she cries, for almost three days straight…

Then she moves on, deciding that she’s wasted enough time doing nothing instead of something. She cleans herself up, trying her best to keep the habits that Popola and Devola had ingrained into her. She finds herself crying again when she comes across the letter that they’ve left for her. It rests on top of a folded bundle of clothes that they’ve left for her.

_/So we can match!/_

Laughter bubbles up in her throat as she wipes her eyes on the back of her sleeve. There’s something so touching about the gift she’s been given—the thought behind it meaning so much to her in this time of need. She presses the folded bundle of clothes tightly against her chest. She closes her eyes and for a brief moment, she can sense Popola and Devola. She can almost feel their arms around her. It feels just as warm as ever—as if they’ve never left.

“Thank you,” she says to no one in particular.

A soft, gust of air passes by at that moment—almost in response. The timing is far too convenient to ignore, so Casca lets herself believe that she’s been heard. So she opens her eyes and smiles through the pain that she feels in her chest.

…

She returns to her village not long after that, somewhat surprised to see that there’s anything left for her to return to at all. It takes the villagers a lot longer to finish rebuilding. There are a lot less people around than before, so no one is exempt from work. And yet, as the days go by, Casca finds herself doing absolutely nothing. She stands at the sidelines, just watching everyone else work. She catches them whispering about her from time to time, though no one dares to even look in her direction.

As usual, they blame her for everything, though they’re not as open about it as before. A lot has changed over the past year, so Casca doesn’t find it too surprising that the villagers now fear her. Rather, she’s more surprised that it’s taken them this long to realize that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to pick on the child that they consider cursed. That maybe—just _maybe_ …their actions could have consequences.

_They had it coming…_

They still do, because nothing they do will _ever_ make up for her trauma. So she certainly hopes that all the gratification they’ve felt from tormenting her was worth the fear they have of her now—because it isn’t going away anytime soon. It’s there to stay for however long she’ll lurk within their darkest of memories, each time something terrible happens. And really, they only have themselves to blame for it…

…

Casca spends most of her time within the forest, tending to the garden that she’s made for herself. Half a year has passed when she comes across a curious little plant growing amongst a cluster of similar-looking sprouts. She thinks nothing of it at first, treating it like any other plant growing in her garden. It seems harmless enough, so she gives it and the sprouts the benefit of the doubt.

Casca has no regrets when flowers begin blooming from the mysterious plants. It’s such a happy surprise, because the flowers are the same ones she had seen in her dreams. They look exactly as she last remembers them—white, with a soft glow that emits from their petals. The sight alone brings tears to her eyes, filling her with an overwhelming sense of comfort as she recalls the memories that she has of Popola and Devola.

…

The years go by without much fanfare. Nothing much has really changed—the raids still come and go, leaving the village as impoverished as ever. Each time, Casca is conveniently absent, earning her the silent ire of her village. Only the children act out on their anger, still too young to know any better until it’s beaten into them by their parents.

Casca thinks nothing of it, as it’s completely out of her hands. Instead, she just focuses on practicing her magic. It’s how she discovers the tiny flower spirit hiding amongst the bed of glowing white flowers. Such a curious little thing, with a coloration that matches the flower she clings to.

“Hello,” Casca says to the spirit. “My name is Casca—what’s yours?”

The flower spirit purses her lips, her eyes staring curiously at Casca. Minutes pass before she opens her mouth and gives an answer. “Dunno.”

…

“Would you mind…if I gave you a name?” Casca pauses for a moment to think, a small smile crossing her lips. “How about Mana?”

The flower spirit blinks owlishly, tilting her head to the side before saying, “Mana likes Mana!”

Mana is a strange little thing, but Casca appreciates her presence. She makes the time go by faster when she’s waiting for the bandits to finish raiding her village. That’s how Casca learns the name of the flowers she’s been caring for.

“Lunar tears…” Something about the name sounds so familiar to Casca, in ways that make her heart ache for the past she left behind. “How pretty…”

“You’re pretty!” Mana exclaims, plucking a nearby flower to give to Casca. “Mana gives a gift to friend!”

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Casca isn’t sure if there’s another spirit tied to the flower that Mana had plucked.

“It’s fine—Mana’s alone!” Mana cheerfully reassures her, blissfully unaware of the implications her words had.

…

“Hey…” Casca takes the flower from Mana. “Would you like it if I took you with me one day? So that I can find you more friends?”

The idea of leaving this little flower spirit behind when the day comes that she has to leave her village is…discomforting, to say the least. If Mana had at least another spirit around to act as her companion, then maybe Casca wouldn’t feel as bad.

_Just one more year…_

Casca wears the flower in her hair, where Mana tells her it looks best. It never wilts, no matter how many days go by. When Casca asks why, Mana only laughs and then scampers over to a nearby weed for her to uproot.

Mana provides Casca with the practice she needs to talk to spirits. It’s a lot harder without Popola and Devola around, since they were always able to give her a direct link to them. They’re a lot more finicky when she’s on her own, acting more playful than serious when she tries talking to them. Mana says it’s because they want her to play—that she’s too serious for someone her age.

They’re not wrong…and Casca guesses that maybe she should _try_ to enjoy what little time she has left as a child. So she tries to spend it with Mana, hoping that her childish mannerisms will bring out hers.

It works a lot better than she was expecting and just like that, a month goes by without Casca doing anything productive. She loses some weight as a result, sometimes forgetting to eat due to the amount of attention she gives to Mana. Often, Casca finds herself talking about the past, which she disguises as weird dreams she’s had. It’s always fun seeing Mana react to them. It also helps ease some of her anxieties…

By the end of the year, Casca manages to get the fire elementals on her side. She blows on her hair in the air and watches the ends spontaneously combust, quickly transforming into thin fire elementals in the shape of tiny salamanders. She lets them fall onto the wreath of lunar tears that she made with Mana’s help, watching as they burn the flowers to ash. It’s her gift to the salamanders, in exchange for keeping her and the garden warm throughout the winter.

“Thank you for keeping us safe,” she says afterwards.

…

…

Days after Casca turns twelve, she starts to prepare for her eventual departure. She collects her things from the forest, deciding that it’s best to keep them close by. It’s just as she’s going back to fetch Mana that she comes across a sight that stops her completely in her tracks.

“M-Mana…” Her eyes widen at the lunar tears that are scattered all over the ground. Some are completely ripped apart, while others have been kicked or crushed into the dirt. Only a select few of them have been left intact—neither of which were Mana’s flower. “Mana!”

Immediately, she searches the remains of the crushed flowers. She digs through the dirt, calling out to Mana, just hoping that she’s still alive somehow. It takes her almost an hour to find Mana’s flower. At first glance, it seems relatively unharmed…then she looks closer and finds that its stem has been disconnected from its roots.

She stares at the flower for a full five minutes, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Then, after another minute, she starts to scream. She screams and she screams and she screams, holding the withering flower close to her chest.

…

…

She doesn’t return to her village until a few days later. Anger bubbles in the pit of her stomach as she follows the light breeze that leads her to the group of teenaged boys that had ruined her garden. They’re still talking about it as though it only happened minutes ago, showing absolutely no shame in ruining the cursed child’s garden.

While they’re distracted, she blows on her hair and sends a wave of fire elementals in their direction. She walks off afterwards, listening to their screams as they tried to put out the flames that cover their clothes. It won’t bring Mana back to life, but it does make Casca feel somewhat better.

Days pass and Casca comes across the group of boys that killed her friend. They’re all covered in bandages, the fire leaving them with especially painful burns on their skin. They stand still, not knowing what to make of her and the white flower that she has in her hair. She stares at them with an eerily calm smile on her face.

“Was it worth it?” she asks them, her smile only widening when she hears them scream in terror. She laughs as she watches them flee from her sight, deciding that she’s done enough to avenge her fallen friend.

…

_“Shul parel moihim..._

_Ar, jaruk noisin,_

_Dah galach dalfouir_

_Malech foir dir azlad erenj boir…”_

She spends the rest of the day watching her oldest brother plow the field, singing a song that Mana liked. The wind carries off the sound of her voice, taking with it the remains of Mana’s flower. The petals are scattered throughout the village, lighting the darkest of areas quite briefly before finally dying out.

Unbeknownst to Casca, she is being watched by a passing noble. He stops his horse, his gaze focused on Casca. A minute passes and he leaves, his thoughts full of the brown-skinned girl with the white flower in her long, black hair.

…

…

The days go by and after a month, Casca finds herself being brought back to the house by her oldest sister. She tells her to grab her stuff—that she’s finally leaving this place.

“What’s the occasion?” Casca asks with a sly smile on her face. She’s surprised it’s taken this long for her own family to permanently cast her out.

“A noble wants you as a servant girl.” Upon hearing that, Casca’s smile immediately wanes as memories of an attempted assault floods her head. “Make yourself look presentable as possible—it’s the least you can do.”

Casca does the exact opposite, choosing to fill her pockets with as many sharp objects as she can fit. She has a few rusty blades that she found discarded on the ground, some sharp rocks that have certainly aided her one too many times, and a knife she stole from the kitchen. She cuts her hair, wanting it as short as possible to keep it from being of a grabbable length.

She knows what’s coming up and she’s trying her best to fight back as much as possible. But as she’s stuck in the carriage with the noble who wants her for far more malicious reasons, she finds herself starting to panic. Her heart is pounding so hard within her chest. She almost thinks it’s about to burst when the noble finally lays his grimy hands on her.

She screams, unable to keep her cool as far too unpleasant memories from her past childhood begin to surface in her head. She remembers unwanted touches, knowing not about how to deal with them until they were nothing more but guilt-ridden memories as an adult. She kicks the man in the crotch and flees the carriage, not caring about the treasured bundles of clothes that she leaves behind.

She runs and she runs and she runs, until a hand reaches out and grabs her by the shoulder. Another scream erupts from her throat and she reaches into her pocket to pull out the knife in her pocket. She tries to stab the man, but his grip on her wrist is too strong. His weight is too much on her body as he pushes her to the ground, his fingers gripping at the front of her dress.

_R-rriii-i-i-ipppp!_

She screams again, her free hand immediately going to his face. Her sharp nails dig into his face, blood soon dripping down his face. The man only swears and punches her in the face a few times in an attempt to weaken her resolve to fight. It only strengthens it, her teeth immediately chomping down on his knuckles. She can taste blood—both hers and his. It’s disgusting, but not as disgusting as the intents that this predatory man had for a mere child.

He slams the back of her head into the ground, again and again until he’s dislodged his fist from her mouth. Her vision swims, tears spilling from her eyes as nausea bubbles in the pit of her stomach. Even now, she still has nightmares of the close calls she had—the what ifs that always plague her mind.

_Never again._

_Never again_

_Never again never again never again._

_NEVER AGAIN NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER._

She screams bloody murder as she feels his grimy hand pull her skirt up. She doesn’t want this. She doesn’t. Want…

_Nonononononono…_

_NONONONONO!_

Her hand shoots out to his face, sharp fingernails plunging themselves into his eyes. His pained screams are music to her ears. She feels his weight on her start to falter and she takes advantage of the opportunity she’s given, allowing her to shove all her weight against him, pushing him off of herself. Now the tables are turned, and it is she who is on top, her nails slicing deep cuts into his face. She pulls out a sharp rock from her pocket and wrestles her other wrist free from his grip, allowing her to finally use the knife she’s had in her hand.

She shoves it into his other eye, digging and twisting, ignoring the hands that are at her throat. She keeps at it, even as her head starts to feel light. She lifts up the blade and starts stabbing at his face. She keeps at it, again and again and _again_.

Soon, the hands on her neck start to loosen their grip, allowing her to breathe again. Still, she keeps stabbing. She feels his blood on her hands, sees his nose smashed in by the pair of fists that keep coming down each time she plunges her knife into his face. She hears a sickening gurgle and crunch that makes her want to puke. But that won’t stop her.

_Never again never again never again._

_Never never **never**._

_I won’t allow._

_Won’t won’t **won’t**!_

There’s one last scream she hears from him when she plunges her knife into his crotch. It’s the last thing she’ll ever hear from him as she stands up and brings her foot down on his face, stomping on it again, and again, and **again**.

She feels lightheaded after all of this, bile burning the back of her throat. She vomits all over the noble’s corpse, the tears streaming down her face as it finally sinks in. She just killed a man…

_I killed…_

_Killed…_

_Killed killed killed killed **killed**._

She retches again, a wave of anxiety nearly causing her to lose her footing. She screams and screams and screams. She doesn’t know what to make with this new information. It’s too much too soon.

It frightens her so much, because of how easy it had all been. She thought the hardest thing she would ever have to do in this life was kill a man…but here she is, just standing over the brutally mutilated corpse of the man who tried to rape her.

_I was almost—!_

She drops to her knees, unable to withstand the wave of emotions that overwhelm her body. She sobs loudly, crying like the child she still is. Crying out of relief and fear over what had happened, what had almost happened, and what this will mean for the rest of her life.

That’s when she feels a cloak being wrapped around her. Immediately, she stops crying, her eyes widening at the sight of a white-haired boy not much older than her. His blue eyes almost stare right through her, making her feel far smaller than she already is. An understanding look settles on his pretty face, making Casca feel unbearably angry at the choices he could make.

**_Will_ ** _make if I’m not careful…_

Her fist swings out at his face, colliding with his left cheek. She hears a round of surprised gasps coming from the other people that accompanied the boy. She tries punching the boy again, but his hands are way too fast and strong. They grip her wrists, keeping her from lashing out again.

“I won’t hurt you,” the boy tells her. “I am not like that man.”

It’s almost ironic hearing that coming from Griffith, of all people. Then again, he is only a child, still ages and experiences away from being that monster who betrayed everyone. A childish thought crosses Casca’s mind, one that makes her want to hope.

“D-Do you promise?” she blubbers out, her body still trembling.

What surprises her the most is that Griffith decides to humor her and says, “I promise.”

…

Casca leaves her village that day, traveling with Griffith’s band of mercenaries. When she tells them that she has no place to return to and asks if she can come along, not many people are willing to discourage her. They all have seen what she’s capable of when she killed that noble. With a drive like hers, all she needs is training and some refinement to soon fit in with their group.

“You won’t regret this,” she tells them as she holds the bundle of clothes that she’s been given by a blond-haired boy with freckles on his nose. She’s happy to have what’s rightfully hers, not caring much about the other things that have been taken from the carriage.

She stands at the end of the group as they leave, slowly watching her village as it disappears in the distance. Her hand reaches up to the lunar tear that’s still in her hair. A sense of accomplishment washes over her, for surviving as long as she has.

“Good riddance,” she says to herself once she can no longer see her village.

_Thanks for nothing._

A smile crosses her face as she runs to catch up with her group. She introduces herself to everyone, doing as best of a job as she can to remember each of their faces and names.

“I’m Casca—what’s your name?” she smiles widely as she looks at Griffith, ignoring every urge she has to punch him right in the face.

“Griffith,” he says, looking somewhat amused at her change in demeanor. “You hit hard for someone so small.”

She laughs, unable to ignore the dark bruise marring his cheek. “I guess I do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, here we end Casca’s childhood! Yeah, had to take some creative liberties here and there and as always, watch out for the references!!
> 
> Also, if anyone is wonder, yes, I am a CSA survivor, so a lot of the shit going on in this chapter was pretty much…YEAH. Considering it venting in some ways, but otherwise, I’m doing good!!
> 
> I got to study for exams and crap! And also finish up Babylonia in FGO, so if I don’t talk much after this…then yeah. Just give me a week or so and I’ll be back, I just gotta get this last stuff out of the way. Do feel free to comment, because I crave that validation and it IS what has kept me writing, yeah?
> 
> So that’s it for now, I’m happy to get this chapter out before the end of the year. Hoping to have an even more productive year in 2019! Until next time!


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